Deleted Scene: Postpartum Anxiety Felt Like An Unwanted Appendage

I am getting closer and closer to publishing my memoir. (Insert happy dance right here.) In the meantime, I am sharing scenes that did not quite make the final cut right here on the blog.

One weekday morning, I left the house to take Pippa on a walk about twenty minutes after Nathan embarked on his morning constitutional. Our paths crossed, and I stopped him to say, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I’m anxious.”

“I know,” I said.(But I didn’t.Nothing felt fine, and nothing was going to ever be fine again.)

I tried to explain how I felt. “It’s like I’m carrying around a backpack and it’s filled with anxiety. And I want to put the backpack down but I don’t know how. It’s welded to my back and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

I paused. “But I’ll figure it out. I promise. I will find a way to put the backpack down.”

Nathan hugged me again and said some more reassuring things before walking home to shower and go to work. I watched him walk down the block and felt a fresh surge of anxiety and guilt.

I had just promised my husband that I would stop feeling so anxious, but I had no idea how I was going to manage that.

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